


Freed

by PsychadelicFlowers



Category: Other - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Abuse?, All Is Not As It Seems, Angels, Demons, F/F, Gay, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I hope you like, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Monsters are like slaves, Multi, There Is a War, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vampires, War, Why Did I Write This?, classic monsters, get ready for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-05 07:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14612982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychadelicFlowers/pseuds/PsychadelicFlowers
Summary: In a world where humans have betrayed those they allied with in favor of Angels, demons and monsters are hunted, killed, and enslaved. One group aims to stop that.~~~hmmm I suck at summaries, but trust me, i think it’s good~~~





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello.” The voice was soft, but loud. It sounded confident, strong. It echoed in Aaron’s ears. 

“Hello!” Jenny sounded stressed. Maybe she was afraid of Him. Aaron was. Jenny had almost dropped her kettle when she heard the doorbell ring. She’d sat the man on the couch and rushed off to get the tea.

“Is that tea I smell?” He asked. He was polite. Aaron wondered why. He was an angel- no other angel had been nice to the vampire.

“Y-yes!” Jenny stammered. Her remark was followed by the sound of water pouring.

“Great! Now, I presume you know who I am?” He asked, sipping at his cup. He grimaced. He set the cup down on the table in front of the couch and crossed his legs.

“Yes, sir!” Jenny nodded, ginger curls bouncing.

“And you know what I do?” He looked at his fingernails.

“Y-yes!” Jenny nodded again.

“Would you mind telling me,” he leaned forward. The springs in the couch creaked, “so I know you know?”

“You’re the angel Miseriel,” Jenny swallowed thickly “you’re the head of the Underling Rights Branch. But I don’t know why you’re here. I’ve been nothing but kind to mine!” Aaron winced. Miseriel leaned back.

“Hm-hmm,” He drummed his fingers on the side of his thigh.

“Anything,” She gulped, “wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Miseriel said, “it’s just that, in every household I’ve visited, the household underling in service greets me at the door. But yours didn’t.”

“Oh!” Jenny clammed up, rubbing the back of her neck. Aaron shifted nervously, “he, uh, he-“

“Don’t try and explain,” The angel sighed, waving his hand, “I see the state he’s in. Blind, starved, and beaten. You hold strong hatred toward underlings in general. Which means, no matter what you do, you are not deemed fit for any Underling to be in your care.” Jenny choked on words, angrily jumping to her feet.

“I paid for him! He’s mine! Legally, anyway!”

“Would you like to hear the heavenly order?” Miseriel stood to meet her. He was shorter. Her nose was even with the top of his hair.

“I. Paid. For. Him.” Jenny seethed through clenched teeth. Her fists balled.

“Did you now? I hadn’t noticed,” Miseriel’s voice dripped with venom and sarcasm, “but I have an order. Would you like to hear it, or can I just relieve you of your ‘useless’ Underling?” Jenny sputtered and flew back a step, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates. “Oh, don’t bother explaining. I heard you as I walked up the stairs.”

“Give me the order!” Jenny yelled, but her voice strained. Aaron winced, but remained sitting. If he moved, Jenny would throw something- something hard and heavy.

“Fine,” he cleared his throat, “Jenny Hawke, I, Miseriel, an angel under the supervision of Michael the Archangel, have come, by order of the heavenly court, to confiscate the Underling under your supervision. You have failed to keep care of him sufficiently and, as result, he will be moved to a care house. Happy?”

Jenny was speechless. She gawked as Miseriel strode over to Aaron and held his hand out. Aaron clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Hesitantly, he reached out to take it. But Jenny had other ideas- she threw the blue porcelain vase in the right couch side table. It shattered against Aaron’s hand. Both flinched, withdrawing their hands.

Miseriel growled at Jenny. The air clogged, turning stuffy and cold. Jenny’s breath caught in her throat.

“Do you think,” he threatened, “that throwing vases at me will stop me? I am an angel of the lord, sent with orders from your government! You have no place to question me!” Aaron stayed silent. Miseriel sounded angry- but from what Aaron knew, when Miseriel wasn’t angry, he had tea or was laced with sarcasm. Aaron sniffed deeply. There was a faint aroma of cat. That and smoke. Jenny whispered as she backed herself into the corner. Miseriel sighed through his nose and shut his eyes. The room returned to normal, uncrushing air, and he smoothed out the white suit he wore. But he mainly focused on the soft, golden honey shirt.

“If that is all,” he sniffed, rolling his shoulders. Miseriel kneeled next to Aaron. Aaron’s back hurt from the arched position he’d maintained throughout the meeting. All Miseriel had to do was touch the heavy iron chain around Aaron’s wrist and it fell away like it had never been attached. Aaron sucked in a breath and rubbed his freed wrist, “We will be off.”

Miseriel lifted Aaron off his feet. Aaron was taller then Jenny, so the angel only reached the bottom of his neck. Miseriel snorted at the height difference.

He walked briskly- Miseriel wasted no time. Aaron stumbled quiet a few times; he’d rarely ever been walking so fast. Miseriel may have been short, and his small legs added no height, but he made good time. Aaron could smell the lake down the road, the pine trees to the west, and the burger joint up the street when the wind passed under his nose. He was dying for a burger- even more so blood. 

Miseriel looked over his shoulder.

“Hurry up,” he said, “we haven’t got all day.” He was careful not to use harsh or cruel tone in his wording. Instead, his voice was soft and sweet. Aaron thought of it like a sweet pastry or soft candy. But he could only remember the chocolate-covered honey bar his mother would bring home. But he remembered how smoothly it slid down his throat and the taste clung to his tongue. 

There was a limo, licorice in shade and long. It looked like a funeral wagon. It sat in the cobblestone streets like a bad wedding cake topper on a poorly iced, flat cake. It felt gray. The air was cold, but humid, and their was a mist hanging from the low clouds. It wasn’t sunny, and it wasn’t raining.

“Ah!” Miseriel sighed quietly, “reminds me of England. It’s so bleak this time of year. Not,” he grinned, but his eyes were tired, “that I’m pining for New Jersey.” Aaron sniffed again. Part of him was scared to speak- which would actually be all of him- but the odor of the musky air told him more than his questions.

For one, the leather of the backseat smelled of tea and sugar, but still had the lingering of the polish used. There was also a salty-sweet smell, almost like human blood or tears- but it was more sweet than salty. Like a pretzel or salted caramel. Aaron liked it, much more than he liked the dusty musk of the house Jenny owned. The blonde waited awkwardly while Miseriel climbed in, who decided to sit in the far corner. Aaron sat in the other side. All the windows had shades drawn over them, black cloth hanging from the ceiling of the car. The door swung shut by itself, the engine started with a purr. It was soothing- there was a steady hitch in the rumble. Every time it hit, Aaron’s heartbeat leapt with it. 

“So,” Miseriel started, hand digging in a bowl of candy, “what would be your name?”

For the first time that day- in a long time, actually- Aaron found the strength to speak. His voice rasped, just a little, like he had swallowed gravel, “You’re the head of URB. Don’t you already know my name?”

Miseriel shook his head, a smirk on his lips, “I could find out, yes, but I’d rather have you tell me yourself.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Aaron,” Aaron replied quickly, “where are we going?”

“Home,” Miseriel sighed, leaning back into the leather seat, “to friends. Fair warning: Logan doesn’t mess around- don’t spend time moping or sulking. I suggest you square your shoulders and listen to her. She knows what she’s doing,” he leaned on the armrest and held his head up. 

“I hope,” Miseriel added, under his breath. Aaron made a face.

“What?”

“Sleep, Aaron,” Miseriel waved his hand at him, “it’s honestly the best thing you can do. I’ll wake you when we get there.” Aaron gingerly lied down. The limo was made with long, spacious seats. Not to mention is was softer than actually leather. Aaron was... comfortable. 

He sucked on one of his dull fangs. After a few minutes, he heard something. The dark was a bit comforting, yes, but he heard a low, soft sound. 

‘Snoring?’ He thought. Aaron sat up and tilted his head toward the direction of the sound. It originated from where Miseriel sat. Or, Aaron supposed, lied down. He must’ve fallen asleep. Aaron snorted quietly. Angels didn’t sleep. They needed it, yeah, but not as much as a human or underling. And no angel trusted their feathered wings around and form of lower life- vampires, werewolves, underlings, demons, even humans. They only slept when safe in the walls of heaven. Miseriel must have been faking. To see if Aaron would attack and try to run. Then he would have a good reason to kill the blonde. 

Aaron found himself wondering what Miseriel looked like. What color were his eyes? His skin? His hair? Aaron ran a tongue over his eyeteeth. A thought snuck into his mind and presented itself with a flashing sign. ‘Here I am,’ it said, ‘you’ll regret me.’

What did Miseriel’s wings look like? What color were they? How many? Aaron knew angels were secretive about their wings. He also knew that archangels had six wings, fallen angel’s wings turned black and leathery, and reborn angels had multicolored feathers. 

Jenny liked wings. It was all she spoke of when on the phone. She was an angel doctor, an angelologist. Or something. Aaron couldn’t remember.

His stomach clenched. When was the last time he ate? He couldn’t remember. He sat up, shaking his head. The car’s soothing roar had been on for some time. He wondered if they were close to wherever they needed to be. They hit a pothole- a big one- and the entire car jolted. There was a thwacking sound, and a small, low cry. Aaron whipped to look at the angel- the sound resembled a head being thrown against a table. It was a sound Aaron knew too well.

“Are you alright?” Miseriel asked, rubbing his forehead.

“Yes,” Aaron rubbed his arm, “the pothole didn’t affect me much. I heard something. Are you alright?” Aaron’s tongue mimicked the way Miseriel spoke, elegant and smoothly, with a slight accent on his words. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Miseriel mumbled, “Yeah. I’m, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked, moving positions. His knees hurt.

“I’m absolutely positive.” Maybe the angel would have been more convincing if his voice didn’t shake. Aaron sighed through his nose. The purr was steady, but no other sound penetrated the unearthly stillness of the car. Aaron played with his fingers. Miseriel cleared his throat as the car trilled to a stop.

“Ah, here we are!” He seemed happy to be out the car, practically flying into the fresh air when the door was opened. He exhaled and rolled his shoulders as Aaron crawled out behind him. The sun was warm, but a shadow fell across Aaron’s face- a building, most likely. Miseriel walked briskly as the limo sped away.

“Come on!” Miseriel barked, “We haven’t got all day!” His footsteps clicked to his brisk base. Aaron followed, listening to the way said steps bounced off the walls. It must have been an apartment complex- there were stairs, and winding hallways, and doors on either side. There was a gym, surrounded in glass, and a large pool. Aaron snorted.

“What?” Miseries asked, clipping over the ‘t.’ “Is it not to your standards?” The angel’s venom made the vampire smirk.

“You took me too an apartment complex. How many buildings are there?”

“Fifteen. Logan plans on building one more next month.”

“How many apartments are there?”

“Oh, I’d say… Building Fifteen is huge, with four floors, and eight apartments each floor, so that’s… Uh… Building Fifteen has thirty-two apartments- if I’m right, which I’m probably not- but Building One-through-Fourteen have three floors with six per floor. Those buildings have- ask Logan. I don’t really care, plus I’m bad at math,” Miseriel shrugged. His suit pants swished as he practically jogged through the opening around the pool. Aaron wondered if it was deep. He could hear the water splashing and two voices laughing. Girls, probably.

“Hi, Mr. Misery!” One of them called. She sounded young, maybe five or six.

“Hello, Aria,” Miseriel called back. He sounded like he was smiling.

“Hiya, Miseriel,” The other, older in age, called. She sounded about thirteen, “is that the new guy?”

“Yes, Annie, he is.”

“Hiya, new guy!” She called.

“His name is Aaron,” Miseriel stop d’histoire pace and moved closer to the pool, “not ‘New Guy.’”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that,” Annie sunk into the water. All her words sounded bubbly and distorted, “He’s shy, isn’t he?”

“Aaron!” Miseriel smiled in the vampire’s direction, “this is Annie and her younger sister, Aria.”

“Hello,” Aaron waved in what he hoped was the girl’s direction.

“Are you blind?” Aria’s shrill voice chirped, “you’ve got your eyes clos-“ a splash of water led Aaron to believe Annie had tackled her younger sister. Both girls were giggling and splashing water in the other’s faces.

“Well,” Miseriel smiled, “I better be going. Logan will want to meet him, y’know?” He hasn’t stopped smiling since the start of the small conversation

“Bye, Mr. Misery!”

“Adios, Miseriel!” 

Aaron followed Miseriel. His strides were longer, so he ended up walking beside the angel. Turns and curves, straights and stairs. Aaron was sure they’d pulled a U-turn somewhere. When the finally stopped- if they started at Building One, they were either at Building Eight or Nine- Miseriel dug around in his pocket. Aaron almost asked why he didn’t just knock; because angels lived in Heaven. In tidy little pockets. Cubby-holes. Not in small apartments.

There was a jingle of metal, followed by the lock unlatching. Aaron’s nose was hit with the smell of mist and cat fur, of lavender and licorice. He wrinkled his nose. It want unpleasant, but it was a bit much all at once.

“Sophie!” Miseriel called, stepping in, “Logan!” Aaron waited patiently at the door. Miseriel turned, “You can come in. I forgot vampires need to be invited in.” Aaron took a big step over the line the door drew. He fumbled and crashed to his knees. Miseriel hoisted him up by his arm, sighing. The kitchen was to Aaron’s immediate left, a bedroom to his right. There was a couch by a large window, and a television hung from the wall facing it.

“Oh, hello there!” A cheery voice greeted. There was a shuffling sound from the ceiling, followed by a less-than-graceful thump. The speaker was small, smaller than Miseriel by an inch or two. (She was so small. So much shorter than Aaron.) Her hair was mused and hanging around her jaw and nape. It was messy, very messy, hanging in choppy waves at different levels.

“Sophie,” Miseriel acknowledged her, “where’s Logan?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “she went down to the gym in Thirteen.” Sophie’s tongue pushed at her eye teeth, which grew down to her lower lip when she grinned, “But you’re back! That’s great! Who’s this?” Sophie spoke with a heavy lisp over her ‘s’s, turning the sound into a ‘th.’

“Aaron, meet Sophie, a spiderling. Sophie, this is Aaron. Vampire. Have fun,” he waved aimlessly inbetween them. His speech had changed- at Jenny’s and in the car, he spoke elegantly and fluidly. But now he spoke more modernly, more personally.

“Hiya! He already introdused us, but I’m sophie.”

“You already know my name. I don’t see why you said it again?” Aaron tilted his head.

“I wanted to,” she shrugged, “ya hungry? We got-” She paraded to a large fridge and swung open the door, “lesee. We have… hotdogs, hamburgers, chicken, some old leftovers from last night- it’s noodles with soy sauce.” She shut the door and opened another, “And there’s ice cream, but the chocolate is mine, vanilla bean is Logan’s. I don’t think… Nope! Mis doesn’t have any ice cream. Anyway, there’s also-“

Aaron felt bad about cutting her off, “do you have any blood?”

“Uh,” an awkward silence fell over the duo, “No. Sorry, dude. But, hey, Logan went to the store- Not that garbage one down in town, but the little market here. They sell pigs blood. Can you eat that?”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded. He smiled. Sophie’s voice danced over her words, jumping up and down. She practically sang as she spoke. Her feet moved when silence hit, her body swayed to a silent tune, her heart beat to a personal drum. Her hair moved when he bobbed her head.

“Are you listening to music?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Wha-? Oh, no!” She giggled, “My headphones are big and bulky and light up! I like them purple. They have little spiders on the sides. I’m just humming.” 

“I didn’t hear you,” Aaron shifted awkwardly on his feet, “you weren’t humming.” He flinched. He messed up. Aaron knew better than to disagree with others- it usually got you hit.

“You’re right! I don’t hum verbally,” Sophie plopped on the couch, sighing, “otherwise I’d sing. I hum in my head, recite the words. It’s fun.”

“It seemed like it,” Aaron suggested. She wasn’t going to hit him? Aaron was confused. That and a little scared.

“sit down, you weirdo,” she patted the seat beside her with a grin, “We’ll wait until Logan gets here, ‘n’ then we’ll go down and get you somethin’ to eat.” Aaron was silent. Instead of awkwardness, this silence was comfortable. Sophie bobbed her head and tapped her foot, drummed in the air with her fingers. Sometimes she switched it out to strum and invisible guitar.

“What are you humming?” Aaron asked, somehow desperate to break the silence.

“I have no idea,” Sophie laughed, “It’s just stuck in my head. Wanna hear?”

“I suppose,” Aaron smiled. She laughed like bells. She shut her eyes and started with a grin on her painted lips.

She sang beautifully. Like a siren or mermaid. Her lisp was undetected. Her hands and hips moved as the note carried themselves out of her throat. Aaron was stunned and awed. The song was soft and low, but her was high. That didn’t stop it from being a beautiful performance. The twinkle in her voice added to the ethereal words. They didn’t sound English- some dancing and twisting form of French. 

Aaron was disappointed when the door opened. Mainly because Sophie stopped singing, another because an overwhelming smell of cat washed in. There was a rustle of plastic bags and a tried groan.

“Hello, Logan!” Sophie greeted cheerily. She jumped up and ran over.

“Wassup, Soph?” Logan’s voice was deeper than Sophie’s, but it had its own melody. Hard and sharp, like a blade. A sword or knife, but it held softness. She was smiling.

“Mis brought us a friend!” She pointed at Aaron, who waved gingerly from the couch. Logan’s brow shot up.

“Well, hello!” She greeted, “I’m Logan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah hello there


End file.
